


Breathe Easy

by OrangeBlossoms



Series: Lissabelle Week 2019 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Brief mention of Severa + Cordelia/Panne, Dreams and Nightmares, Established Relationship, F/F, Lissabelle Week 2019, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-27 00:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20751308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeBlossoms/pseuds/OrangeBlossoms
Summary: Lissa has bad dreams. Maribelle can't sleep.





	Breathe Easy

**Author's Note:**

> My first entry for Lissabelle Week 2019 (see [@lissabelleweek](https://twitter.com/lissabelleweek) on Twitter for more information).
> 
> Prompt: dream
> 
> Set late game post-timeskip

There are several risks to sneaking about after dark that fluctuate depending on factors such as the weather and who is on night watch. The new kids in particular are jumpy and she tries to herd her overactive imagination away from fixating on the reasons why. Many are close enough to her own worries and she’s really hurting for some happier thoughts to latch onto at the moment. 

There’s someone on guard not far from her, the light of a small fire spilling out over the trampled earth like liquid gold. The height and silhouette tell her the figure is just Cordelia and Panne’s girl, but she freezes when spotted. Her traitorous heart threatens a return to the fear of earlier dreams, a flight from some terrible unknown just as they race to confront an even greater evil when awake. 

The girl lifts her chin in the barest of greetings before sullenly signaling the end of the interaction by turning her back to her. The flames hiss as she pokes at the fire with a sturdy branch, her ears the more reliable source of information at night. In the day time, under different circumstances, Lissa would at least offer a pleasantry. Instead, she reluctantly exits the dying ring of firelight and presses onward, the crackle of embers the only sound at her back.

Another light flickers in the distance, proving an earlier suspicion correct. The glowing beacon draws her in as she takes careful steps. By this point, the entire army has received the lecture against frivolous staff use and she would rather not deal with a sprained ankle (or a piece of anyone’s mind) from her evening expedition across their corner of camp. 

As she nears her destination, she’s pleased to find the candlelit tent to be the right one and sidles up to the front flap to announce her presence.

“_Psst_. Hey. You’re still awake, right?”

There’s a clatter and a hissed curse that isn’t at all ladylike, but she’s the one asking for a favor, so she decides not to mention it as much as she’d like to tease. When Maribelle arrives at the entrance an extended pause later, she waves her inside, her fingers stained from her work or perhaps a jostled bottle of ink if Lissa’s hearing is anything to go by. On a table is a stack of tomes and scattered loose pages for letter writing and notes. Curled around the base of a mostly empty glass bottle is a rag covered in dark splotches. An uneven row of lit candles complete the ensemble, their glow illuminating the entire enclosure and sending wavering shadows to climb its walls.

“I’ve just been studying, darling,” Maribelle says, a tad too sweet.

“You couldn’t sleep.”

Maribelle purses her lips, stopping just short of a scowl, but wordlessly signaling to the truth in Lissa’s observation. She rarely gives in that easily, however, and instead offers a halfhearted explanation.

“I might have had some difficulty retiring for the evening. You know how it is when you find a particularly riveting account…” If anyone cared to ask for Lissa’s opinion, she’d say that all of said accounts are as dry as dirt, but it’s more the averted gaze and hurried speech that gives Maribelle’s fib away. Lissa crosses her arms and fixes her with her best frown of disapproval. With a pang, she thinks that it’s not even half as ominous as Emm’s used to be when Chrom broke something. Maribelle, however, is sufficiently cowed. With a sigh of defeat, she bows her head. “I couldn’t sleep.” 

“You know you can wake me up if you’re having trouble.”

“I truly appreciate the offer, but I don’t suppose that’s why you’re here.”

She recognizes deflection for what it is, but knows there will be time once they both settle.

“Well, sorta.” She draws out the sound and it’s Maribelle’s turn to shoot her a skeptical look. A slight shrug of her shoulders happens and it’s almost involuntary, just like the sleepy smile that’s coaxed out as their eyes meet. “I had a feeling you might be awake and the candlelight makes your tent stick out like a sore thumb.” An unimpressed _hmm_ is the only response, but she can tell Maribelle’s deciding whether or not to hold her tongue. Instead of waiting for further inquiries, she takes the liberty of welcoming herself in further and flops back onto the perfectly made bedding with a huff. Maribelle never seems to mind a little chaos if Lissa is the one to carry it in with her. “But ugh, just the typical bad dreams. You know how it is.” 

She kicks her boots off with practiced carelessness. Maribelle frowns in distaste, but the worry shows through in the crease in her brow and the way that she watches her. Lissa isn’t quite ready for that look of concern, so she slings an arm across her eyes. Better to be dramatic than distressing.

Hiding won't last for long. She’s all too aware that Maribelle truly does know how it is. Lissa had confided in her plenty of times before Maribelle had tentatively opened up about having her own difficulties sleeping, resorting to apothecary concoctions when it got in the way of her responsibilities. A lot of people might think they don’t have much to worry about. And really, they’re very lucky. That’s what Lissa tells herself when she’s too worked up to turn over and every little thing irritates like a maddening itch she can’t quite reach. 

Tonight after jolting awake in a cold sweat, the covers laid heavy and suffocating. Once she cooled down and adjusted, _then_ her feet were cold. Curling up, while warmer, did little to settle the knots in her throat and her gut, nor did having a good cry over both everything to ever hurt and nothing at all specific. Worst of all, staring into the pitch-black emptiness beckoned thoughts that had her wishing she were still stuck on trying to get comfortable. Actually falling back asleep threatened reentry into the same hazy nightmares that even now she attempts to banish from her mind as it grasps for details of imagined and unwanted scenarios.

With a sluggish effort—sure, she might’ve struggled to fall back asleep, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t _exhausted_—she lifts her head in time to watch Maribelle come join her, perfectly poised as she takes a seat and pats her leg, a small half-smile playing across her lips. Lissa wordlessely accepts the invitation and edges close enough to lay her head on her lap. 

Maribelle’s got the prettiest hands and takes care of them accordingly. Her gloves have prevented the worst of the staff calluses and Lissa focuses on the gentle pressure as they stroke her hair. Whether it’s dreams or recurring worries, Maribelle helps her find her way back with patience she’s learned not to take for granted. There’s no telling when one encounter might be the last. She shakes her head, burying her face in the fabric of Maribelle’s gown to free her from the kind of desperation that isn’t _her_. 

“Take all the time you need,” Maribelle whispers, but Lissa hears her loud and clear as she works to even out her breathing.

Time passes. The night grows kinder with her company. The storm in her head fades into something softer, like thunder rumbling in the distance, the dark clouds already drifted past. Her cheeks are still raw where she hastily scrubbed off her tears, the skin itchy in the spots she missed. Like magic, Maribelle has a handkerchief ready when Lissa raises a hand to rub at an eye. 

“Would you like to talk about it?”

There’s a still moment as she considers the offer, the night insects humming a steady rhythm that fills the pause.

“Not really,” she says before amending her response. “Maybe tomorrow. What about you? Wanna talk about it?”

Maribelle looks up and thinks, her hand still in Lissa’s hair and her lips quirked downward.

“It’s nothing so… contained that I could pinpoint it, but your presence certainly helps.”

She meets her gaze again, smiling this time.

“Really?”

Maribelle nods. When Lissa’s done dabbing at her face, she can better see her own weariness reflected in her partner’s eyes.

“Would you like to stay here tonight?”

She murmurs something like assent and nods, the fabric of Maribelle’s nightgown rubbing against her cheek as it bunches up from the movement. Maribelle is insistent when it comes to rules of many kinds, but she has loosened up more recently and Lissa likes to think she helped facilitate the change. Old habits die hard, however, and she can almost hear her thinking up explanations for the questions they won’t ever receive, each fabrication with a core of truth. She takes Maribelle’s idle hand and presses her lips to the knuckles. It always garners a pleasant reaction, but it’s too difficult to observe from that angle.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “I’ll just—“ A yawn hits, halting her reassurance, but she can sense the tension in Maribelle’s posture melt as she relaxes. When Lissa opens her eyes again, whatever she planned to say has already slipped her mind. “Sorry, guess I really am tired.” 

The hand in her hair pulls away and when she turns to look up at Maribelle, she’s covering her own contagious yawn.

“Mm. Time for sleep then. Past time really.”

A smile softens the observation as if to let her know that she realizes it can’t be helped. That she wouldn’t mind regardless. She could let Maribelle handle things, but she rallies herself enough to sit up and then stand. 

“I’ll get the candles.”

Maribelle mumbles her thanks before curling up on her side. Based on prior experience, she leaves Lissa the edge; she can’t fully explain it, but there’s something about the freedom of not being stuck against the tent wall that offers a sliver of additional peace to her unconscious mind. 

The candles extinguish with several puffs, only one stubbornly resistant until she curls a hand around the flame. She gives her eyes time to adjust before picking her way back. When she settles in, the warmth from where they recently sat lingers and she inches herself further in until their backs are pressed together. It’s only a matter of time before Maribelle turns over and holds her, pressing a kiss to her cheek as they say their good nights. When the waking world starts to slip away, a final wish reaches past the sleep clouding her senses.

“Pleasant dreams, darling.”

The darkness, somehow gentler than before, finally welcomes them to rest.

**Author's Note:**

> They are bad sleep/no sleep solidarity gfs.


End file.
